


rose-colored boy

by end_thistragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, just fluff, the one where niall's a detective and harry's the new medical examiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: They meet at the precinct.Niall had heard there’d be a new face in the morgue with Alfred finally retiring to move his wife far away, possibly somewhere tropical, to live out the rest of their lives.But Niall hadn't expected Harry.





	rose-colored boy

**Author's Note:**

> title from paramore's after laughter

They meet at the precinct on what is possibly the slowest Wednesday Niall's ever had to endure.

He's on his way down to the morgue, wiping at spilled coffee down the front of his shirt as he goes, using a thin napkin from the fried catfish takeout Louis and Zayn had brought in for lunch in order to make amends for their impromptu fire hydrant chair racing throughout the precinct that morning. The shoddy napkin isn't doing anything but crumbling into little pieces each time he drags it across the fabric of his shirt. He'd just bought this one--on sale at the Sears going out of business a block away from his apartment. Jesus. He can't believe it's only 1 o'clock. 

He's been off for two days, having travelled home over the weekend to see his dad. They'd done what they usually do, golfing and drinking and barbecuing. And Bobby always took a moment before he left to tell Niall how proud he was of him. And Niall always pretended not to cry.

He'd felt reluctant coming back to work, his mini vacation back home turning him melancholic. The brutal nature of their current case combined with the idea of a trip to the morgue wasn't exactly helping. 

Niall had heard there’d be a new permanent face in the morgue today with Alfred finally retiring to move his wife as far away from the Midwest as possible, maybe somewhere tropical, to live out the rest of their lives. There'd been a particularly wild party in his honor at the Chief’s house a few days before he retired. The entire police force showed up in droves and practically inhaled the selection of alcohol the Chief provided. Niall still doesn't remember most of that night. Only snippets. He vaguely remembers singing, a lot of skinny dippers in the pool and an unrelenting chant for shots. He had woken up on a lawn chair cuddling a pool inflatable shaped like an alligator with glitter in his hair. He'd stumbled around with a bitch of a hangover until he found Louis passed out in the Chief’s garden, using Zayn's jacket as a pillow and crushing the Chief’s husband’s flowers. It took them awhile to find Zayn and when they did, he was curled up on the front porch swing with shades on and a bottle of wine cradled in his hands, half empty. 

He learned then that everyone in their precinct was certifiably off the rails. 

Still Niall hadn't expected Harry. With his bright eyes and dimpled smile. And he certainly wasn't prepared for Harry as the two of them immediately collide upon Niall's entrance into the morgue.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall mutters, being pushed back by the force of it. 

He's met with a groan, an “Ow,” and then a pair of the most striking green eyes he's ever seen and _oh_ , Niall thinks but then he's hearing it echoed right back to him. “Oh,” Harry says, and Niall can see his cheeks going pink. Which is...something, is what it is.

Niall rubs at his forehead, pausing when he realizes what he'd walked in on. Prince is playing from somewhere in the room. "Were you dancing?"

“I--well.” Harry's floundering, “It's Kiss." He says and offers no other explanation. "I'm so sorry. Erm. Would you like some fruit?”

Niall looks down to where there's a Tupperware filled with chopped fruit in Harry's hands and stares blankly at the container before meeting his gaze again. “You eat down here?”

He's gone pinker if that's possible, and Niall's impressed. It's a pretty shade of pink. “Well I--I don't think they mind. They've never complained before.” He says, holding his unoccupied hand out, “‘M Harry by the way. Harry Styles. I'm the new medical examiner."

Niall shakes his hand and he can feel the warmth of the simple touch all the way down to his toes. Which is odd. He must be due for a checkup or something. “I'm Detective Horan,” He says, “Niall.”

Something dawns on Harry's face and he says, “Oh! So you're the Golden Boy.” But then his face falls just as fast as it brightened. His nose crinkles adorably when he frowns. Zayn's like that too and it always convinces Niall to get him an extra scoop of ice cream or a side of guac at Chipotle. “We weren’t supposed to meet like this.” 

But Niall's too distracted by being called the Golden Boy to ask what he means by that and he's rolling his eyes, flooded with a Zayn and Louis filled rage. He was going to have to kill his best friends in the entire universe. That's unfortunate. He even knows how to get away with murder. They'll never find the bodies. “I'm not--I'm not the Golden Boy. Please don't call me that.” Niall begs. It's a stupid name and he doesn't even deserve it.

"But they say you're really good.” Harry continues anyway, turning around to set his fruit onto a nearby tray. Niall is actually stunned to see a body lying out on the table, wondering how he hadn't noticed it before. He's _known_ for his observation skills. That really shouldn't have happened. “Heard you’ve solved 24 cases in the last year.” Harry's saying.

"25,” Niall corrects, offhandedly, because facts are important, “But it's not just me. I have a team.” Even if it includes two of the biggest idiots alive: one who keeps getting fucking doodles for tattoos and another whose hair changes colors and lengths so often it gives Niall whiplash. 

"Yeah,” Harry intones, “but Zayn says you're the captain of the ship. And none of it would even work if it weren't for you. The team would never succeed. Louis thinks you keep them grounded, that you're their center."

For a moment, Niall considers finding this sweet, feeling an overwhelming admiration for the partners in crime, but then he remembers Louis put shaving cream in his first cup of coffee of the day and Zayn glued his mouse to his desk not even an hour ago and the sentiment is lost.

“They're the spawn of Satan.” Niall concludes. “I wouldn't listen to them. Ever again, actually.”

But Harry just smiles, trying to tuck his hands into his pockets, but missing them a couple of times. It's fascinating to watch. He gives up quickly, crossing his arms over his chest instead. “They also said,” He starts, and the look he's giving Niall is nothing but trouble and Niall starts to regret waking up that morning. It's been a rough one. “That you were single. And--what was it?” He taps his chin like a goofball. “I think single and ready to mingle?”

It's Niall who turns pink this time, pulse picking up speed. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat somehow. He's definitely stronger than this. He's gone deep undercover, he's dealt with serial killers who've developed a fascination with taunting him specifically, he's endured some hardcore shit. He can handle Harry Styles.

He clears his throat though in case it gets squeaky. “Are you asking me out? In a morgue? In front of a dead body?" 

"She can keep a secret.” Harry says, glancing at the body as if she can hear what he's saying, “I've checked.”

Niall has to ignore how endearingly ridiculous Harry seems to be as a person. They've known each other half a second. Michael Buble's singing now about love love, crazy love and Niall wishes Harry would turn the music off. “We've only just met.”

“Yeah,” Harry lifts his shoulders in a shrug, “But I saw your picture on Zayn's desk and thought you were cute. Knocked me right off my feet."

Niall stares at Harry and his impeccable smile, the lifeless body behind him, and then the fruit next to it like it's all normal. And he says with only a hint of regret, “Yes. I'll go out with you. Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry looks surprised, pulling at his bottom lip. He hums, “Louis said that would work. That you're easy to impress. But Zayn thought you'd need a bit more wooing. We had a plan, you know. A night out at a bar. A drink or two in you. Apparently,” Harry says, and he leers a little, “Two Drink Niall is a bit of a flirt.”

Niall runs a hand over his face, suppresses a groan. Dead. Zayn and Louis are so dead. He can find new best friends. Liam, the CSI who Zayn's always blushing about is a nice guy. They've had drinks together before. “Jesus. Can you lot do me a favor and maybe not talk about me behind my back?”

“I can't make promises.” Harry admits. “Once you get them talking it's hard to get a word in. Besides, you're their favorite subject. And I--” He looks sheepish, and Niall refuses to call what happens to his face a blush. “I guess I wanna know if you can be mine too.”

Niall has to get the hell out of here. “Right, um. Here,” He doesn't have his phone on him, it's at his desk. Of course it is. But he digs into his back pocket and brings out a gas station receipt. There's a pen hanging from the pocket of Harry's lab coat and he snatches that to write his number down quickly before handing it to Harry. “My number.”

Harry's eyes are shining a bit as he takes it, folding it up and tucking it into his pocket. “Wow. Thank you, Niall.”

"Yeah, no problem. I'm--” He points over his shoulder, in a rush to get out of there, away from Harry's intense gaze. “Gonna go now. Work to do.”

Harry nods his head. “All right. I'll text you. Definitely. Absolutely. Probably soon. Very soon. Did I mention that I think you're cute?”

Niall hates himself for blushing on his way out the door. The Chief once commended him for his control over his emotions. But fucking look at him now. Just because of a pretty boy. “Uhm. Yeah.” He says, waving awkwardly, “See you later, Styles.”

He makes it all the way to his desk, sinking down in his chair and fanning himself with the nearest printed report from his desk, before remembering he's currently working a case and the only reason he'd been in the morgue was to get a full ME’s report on the body of the woman that lay on the table. Beside the Tupperware of goddamn fruit.

He lets his head fall onto his desk and groans.

"Zayn!” He shouts, because Louis would ask to name Niall's first born in exchange. “I need a favor!”


End file.
